


What Was Missing

by cathrheas



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Turned Into a Ghost, F/F, Ghost Sex, HEEEEERE WE GO, I am so sorry, Slow Burn, Vaginal Fingering, kinda. depends on how long i make this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-01-26 16:11:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21376885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathrheas/pseuds/cathrheas
Summary: Hilda did love having friends. She was a social butterfly, she liked having people around. Textbook extrovert.But even if she was in a crowd of a thousand people, it still felt like there was something she was forgetting.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 44
Kudos: 268





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> um...bear with me, because i thought of this plot so quickly and impulsively that it literally shook my body.
> 
> in case you can't tell i'm playing golden deer rn

Day eight of the dishes piling up in the sink. Claude was holding out for longer than ever before, and although the kitchen was starting to look absolutely disgusting, Hilda had to admire his strength. 

She hated cleaning, but she hated filthy-looking things, too. She was standing there, in awe of the mountain of plates and bowls in the sink. And of course, Claude, as petty and evil as ever, just had to walk past her and top the pile off with a cup. “This is getting ridiculous,” Hilda said.

“Isn’t it? Man, I wish we had someone around here to clean.”

“What, do  _ I _ have to clean because  _ I’m  _ the girl?”

“If I say yes, will you clean them?”

“No,” Hilda snapped. “Ugh! Why can’t you just do it? You’re  _ so _ clever and see through  _ every _ little scheme I have, so you might as well just put an end to all of this and clean the fucking dishes, Claude.”

Claude shook his head, leaning against the fridge. “No can-do, Hilda. I know you better than most, y’know. And if I clean the dishes this  _ one _ time, well, it’ll turn into two, then three, then a million...snowball effect, or whatever.” Claude glanced at the sink again, then shook his head. “Okay. Fine. Let’s cut a deal: we can do it half-and-half. Real simple. I pull out a dish and clean it, then you pull out a dish. Hell, if there’s an odd number of ‘em,  _ I’ll _ clean the extra.”

“Okay, whatever, as long as they get cleaned. You do your half to get the pile down, and I’ll do mine later.”

“Hm...now that I think about it, I’ll do mine later, too, then. Or maybe never. Up to you, my lady.”

“Fuck off!”

“Who’s paying for the Wi-Fi, again?”

He always used that excuse. As if he’d  _ really _ cut the internet off just to spite Hilda. Still, Claude was a schemer at heart, and so was she, and one of them had to give in eventually. So, they washed the dishes, elbow to elbow in the kitchen. There was so much  _ grit _ and, gods, did it feel gross to have little bits of dried pizza sauce under her fingernails. She was going to go get a manicure the next day. What if one of them chipped?

Really, Claude was so inconsiderate.

“Piece of shit apartment,” Hilda grumbled. She had nothing else to say, so she had to complain. At least Claude let her do it. Around anyone else, she had to risk sounding like a brat, but...well, Claude already knew what he was dealing with. “No dishwasher, never mind the shitty rattling noise from the fridge.”

“You didn’t want to pay high utilities, so we had to settle,” Claude said, rolling his eyes. “Unless you wanna ask your brother to foot the bill for a better place?”

“We’ve been here for a year now. No point in moving now.” Hilda cleaned her last dish. There was an extra one, and true to his word, Claude cleaned it himself. “Besides, he already hates that I’m living with a guy. And, no, before you ask again, it doesn’t matter that you’re gay.”

Claude huffed. He really was about to ask again, then. “Alright, different approach. Does it matter that  _ you’re _ gay?”

“Apparently not.”

“Okay, no new apartment, then,” Claude said, rearranging the plates on the drying rack. “I might pick up some more hours at work, though. I wouldn’t mind putting in to hire a maid. And by maid, I mean students more desperate than us who clean other people’s places for money.”

Hilda looked down at her nails. The soap had destroyed them. “I’ll put in a few bucks.”

* * *

The apartment wasn’t really that bad. Hilda was well-off, but she’d lowered her standards a bit, because Claude hated being too extravagant. He’d even convinced her to start working. And, to be honest, her job was low-maintenance and fun—doing makeup in the middle of a mall? Easy money. And a discount on eye-liner.  _ And _ she didn’t have to listen to her brother bitch about her shopping habits, because she had her own money. Claude hadn’t lowered her standards by any means, but he’d made her a bit more appreciative of what she had and what she worked for, although she’d never admit it to him. In turn, she made him a bit more selfish, because he suddenly had a greater appreciation for a good mani-pedi.

She wasn’t sure why her and Claude were good friends. A multitude of reasons, probably: they were both really good actors (in the bad way), they both knew how to party, and, lastly, she’d just known him too long to get rid of him. He was like a stain on her personality. Really, it was almost offensive how many times she’d caught herself sounding like him. It was like she’d known him in a past life, or something, the way they were connected.

They shared a friend group, which was a little suffocating at times, but it provided a baseline group of people Hilda could take advantage of, or go shopping with...usually the former, though. Leonie, Lysithea, Raphael, Lorenz, Ignatz, and inevitably Claude made up a rather large, but tightly-packed group of friends that Hilda could rely on. They planned their schedules together each semester, ate lunch together, had sleepovers on the floor of Hilda and Claude’s living room...Hilda loved them all.

But, sometimes Hilda felt like there wasn’t enough. They’d been friends since middle school, and Hilda knew everyone inside and out. Every now and again, though, she wished there was something a little more.

Her and Claude had their own rooms, but he invaded hers so often that they were hardly separated. So, she decided to take advantage of his presence for once. “Do you ever look at us...like,  _ us _ us, and—”

Claude looked up from his laptop. “Oh, like  _ us _ us? All of us?”

“Yup.”

“Me, and you, and Lysithea, and Raphael, and—”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I look at you guys pretty often, yeah. Not quite as handsome as me.”

Hilda shut her textbook (which she hadn’t been looking at), loudly. “Claude. Can I ask you to be serious? For a second. Please. Because I’ve been feeling weird, and the short of it is, I need you to tell me if I’m being a bitch.”

Claude snorted. “You probably won’t like the answer, but...okay. If you’re asking me to be serious, I have to be a bit concerned. What’s going on?”

“I  _ love _ you guys. Like, all of you. But sometimes I wonder if we’re doing something wrong,” Hilda started. “Like, we’re forgetting something, or not doing something right, or...”

“We’re just a clumsy bunch, I’ll say that,” Claude said.

“No, but—” Hilda sighed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Okay. Neither of us are really religious, but, like...spiritually. Something’s off.”

“Mid-life crisis? Maybe you’re gonna die at forty-two,” Claude said. Hilda scowled at him. “You’re  _ really _ upset, alright. I’m sorry for joking around. But I’m not gonna pretend to understand, because I don’t, really.”

“No, don’t pretend. Good, you don’t understand me,” Hilda sighed. “So, I  _ am _ just going crazy, as expected. Let’s just forget it.”

Claude leaned back in Hilda’s desk chair, folding his arms. “Can you put it into something more tangible? Like, any actual evidence for me to work with?”

“I felt weird when we were buying movie tickets last week,” Hilda said, without thinking. She was wracking her brain, trying to think of anything strange that had happened to her. “You said ‘we need seven, right?’ and I almost said ‘no’. Maybe that’s it?”

“...You want there to be less of us? Look, I know we’ve all wanted Lorenz to die a little before, but—”

“I was thinking eight,” Hilda said.

Claude looked at her, then laughed. “Oh, my god. Hilda, you’re always going on about how there’s too many of us already, and it turns out you’re actually lonely? Aw, isn’t that cute. You want to start an entire country of friends, or something? Or do you just want more of us so you have to pay less when we split the bill even...?”

Hilda giggled at the last bit. “Okay, that’s kinda smart. Can we, like, recruit people? How about Edelgard von Hresvelg? She’s filthy fucking rich. She might pay the whole tab.”

And that was that. They kept egging each other on, trying to think about how they could trap Edelgard into paying for their next road trip. And Claude was probably right. She did love having friends, she was a social butterfly, she liked having people around. Textbook extrovert.

But even if she was in a crowd of a thousand people, it still felt like there was something she was forgetting.

* * *

The dishes piled up again.

Claude was fucking insufferable, and—why did Hilda even laugh at his jokes? Annoying prick. She just fed his ego, steady on, and he kept thinking he could get over on her. Well, she’d show him. Even if the dishes reached the ceiling, she wasn’t going to touch them. And she wasn’t going for that half-and-half bullshit again. No, no. He was going to clean those dishes. She’d been eating take-out—straight out of the box, because even ladies get hungry—so there was nothing in there from her but forks, and  _ that _ was only when the delivery guy forgot to put a fork in the bag.

Yeah, no. She wasn’t gonna wash the dishes.

A little more than a week after they cleaned them together, they were piling up to the point where putting one in was a genuine health risk. Just one more, and it would all tumble down to the floor. 

Once again, Claude came sauntering out with an empty cup, tossing it into the sink. Hilda folded her arms, tapping her foot. Claude glared at her. “What?”

“So,” Hilda said, her voice so high-pitched that she knew Claude knew he was in trouble. “You’re just gonna act like the sink isn’t full.”

“What, you wanna clean them? Half-half?”

“I’ve been eating take-out, so—”

“You say that every single time. I just saw you eat soup in a _ bowl, _ which you  _ then _ put in the sink—”

“That’s it! The bowl, and like two forks—”

“And the spoon you used for the soup.”

“I hate you, Claude. I mean it.” Claude tilted his head. Then, Hilda groaned. “Okay, I don’t. Don’t look at me like that, just...please. Clean the dishes.”

“Half, half,” Claude said, gesturing at the sink.

“No.”

Claude shrugged. “Well...game on.”

* * *

A few more days passed, and Claude stuck to his guns just like Hilda did. It got to the point where they had run out of dishes to use because they were all in the sink, so they  _ did _ end up washing dishes, but only when they needed it. The amount of tension in the kitchen was almost frighteningly high when it came down to that. He’d look her right in the eye as he washed off  _ one _ plate,  _ one _ cup, and  _ one _ fork, then threw it back in the sink when he was finished.

Fucker.

Hilda knew it was only a temporary problem, but it was one that she hated dealing with. It had gotten to the point where Lysithea, Leonie, Lorenz, Raphael and Ignatz had tried to step in. Ignatz had even offered to clean them himself, weekly, but Claude turned him down. “Hilda’s a big girl, and I’m a big boy,” he said. “We can figure it out.”

Hilda was almost satisfied when she heard the glass shatter in the middle of the night. The tower of dishes had finally succumbed. But it was a Friday night, and Claude was out, so Hilda couldn’t gloat over the fact that he had  _ definitely _ caused the broken dish and he  _ definitely _ had to clean it up, because she sure wasn’t going to.

So, she grabbed her phone, going out into the kitchen to take a picture of the broken glass on the floor. What should she caption it, she wondered, when she sent it to him?  _ look what you did, _ maybe, or  _ if only SOMEONE did the dishes! _ Something like that. Or maybe a very blunt, side-eye  _ i’m not cleaning that up. _

Hilda liked that one.

She had her camera at the ready. She knew exactly what she was going to see: glass shards and a leaning tower of dishes that were probably going to be the next ones to land. But she hadn’t expected to see someone else in her kitchen that was definitely not Claude, a random girl who was leaning down on the floor and desperately trying to sweep up the glass with a broom and dustpan.

Hilda looked at her for a few long moments, waiting for the girl to notice her. But the girl was too absorbed in trying to sweep up the glass shards, murmuring to herself madly. “Um...are you one of Claude’s friends, or something?”

The girl looked up, startling so hard that she dropped the broom. Hilda looked at her closer, at her terrified eyes and her messy blue hair. “I’m sorry,” the girl said, stuttering up a storm. “I-I was just trying to help, because...you two were arguing, a-and it didn’t look good...but when I went to turn the sink on, I-I knocked a plate over, and now there’s glass on the floor...”

Hilda was seriously considering using her phone to dial 911, but the girl looked so harmless. Even Hilda could take her in a fight. “...Thanks, but who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Marianne,” the girl said. “Didn’t you know that...?”

And, suddenly, Hilda realized that the girl was almost completely transparent from her head to her toes.


	2. Chapter 2

"I can see through you," Hilda said. "Oh my god. I can see through you. You're  _ see-through.  _ Why can I see through you?"

"I think it's because I'm a ghost," said the girl. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you’d recognize me. Sorry, again."

Hilda didn't know what to do with the apologies. Was she apologizing for being a ghost, or...? "Okay, this...alright. Keep calm, Hilda. Okay. Claude's not home, so we can just clean this glass up and go back to sleep. Maybe if you get a few more hours of sleep you'll stop hallucinating!"

"Oh, no. Are you hallucinating?"

"Yes! Because I see you!"

"I don't want to be a hallucination," Marianne said. Hilda watched her wring her hands. How could she even  _ touch _ things? "I'd like to be real. But I don’t think you think I am...so never mind. To think it’d get to the point where even my friends ignore me..."

"You're definitely not real. And I don’t know you, for the record. You came into my house and broke my plate. We’re not really friends,” Hilda said. She grabbed the broom and dustpan, which had  _ not _ been moved out of the closet by a ghost. No, Claude probably just left it there for some reason. She didn't know why he did the things he did. 

Marianne watched silently as Hilda cleaned up the glass, but it was slightly unnerving to see her floating back and forth out of the corner of her eyes. Marianne seemed anxious. Or was it a ghost thing, to not be able to sit still?

Oh, right. She wasn’t a ghost. She was a hallucination. Hilda had to keep that in mind. She could float to-and-fro all she wanted, she still wouldn’t be real, and that was what mattered. When Hilda had finished scraping up the glass shards—her  _ favorite _ plate, of course—Marianne stopped floating, watching intently as Hilda dumped the glass in the trash can. Hilda turned to Marianne, staring right back.

Marianne grew nervous, as if knowing that Hilda was waiting on her to say something. “Um,” she began. Then, she descended into stuttering uselessly again. Hilda hoped that her hallucinations weren’t a reflection of her consciousness, or else she seriously had to work on her inner self-confidence. “I’m sorry about the plate. I just wanted to help.”

“You know what,” Hilda sighed. She glanced at the clock. Four in the morning. And she couldn’t even gloat to Claude about the fact that the dishes were his fault. “I don’t even care. This isn’t even real. This isn’t even happening. So apology accepted, uh, Marianne.”

“Please don’t fight with Claude anymore...I hate seeing my friends fight.”

Hilda shook her head, laughing in disbelief. She couldn’t even object to Marianne’s use of the word “friend” again. “God, you sound like Ignatz.”

“I do? Nobody’s ever told me that.”

“Yeah, probably because you don’t know him,” Hilda said. She gave Marianne’s outfit the once-over. Hilda definitely didn’t know her. She knew very few people that dressed like fashion disasters. If she did know them, she refused to know them for long. “You look like you stepped out of fourteenth-century Germany or something. I doubt you know him.” Marianne kept wringing her hands. Then, she stopped, just staring at her feet. Why did she have to look so fragile and human, when she was clearly anything but? “Let’s say you  _ are _ a ghost. If me and Claude stop fighting, will you leave me alone?”

“If that’d make you happy, Hilda...” Now, why did she have to go and say it like that? What was wrong with her, making Hilda feel bad like that? Hilda debated being a good person, saying that, no, she didn’t  _ really _ want Marianne to leave, but—what the fuck? No, that was a ghost. Not even a real person. Why was Hilda feeling bad for her? Marianne ended Hilda’s internal conflict, nodding again. She looked up at Hilda, right at her for once. Her eyes were there, so sad and expressive despite her fading form. So striking. Hilda couldn’t forget a gaze like that. “I’ll go away if you stop fighting.”

There was only one way to achieve that. So, Hilda did the dishes. All by herself. She was mostly moving on autopilot, unused to being awake at that time unless she was drunk. But, worst case scenario, her conscience was forcing her to be a good person and torturing her with ghost hallucinations until she broke down and did the dishes, so she did the damn dishes. Marianne offered to help, but one broken plate was enough, and it seemed like her ghostly limbs weren’t fit for...doing things.

Hilda finished the dishes, then turned to see that Marianne was looking at her. “Okay, they’re done. I doubt we’ll fight again. At least, not about this, and probably not seriously.”

“You don’t hate him anymore, right...?”

“When did I—” Oh, yeah, she did say that. “I didn’t mean it. I said I didn’t. I always say that.”

“I know you do. But I had to make sure you didn’t mean it.” She knew? How long had this girl been watching? “Thank the Goddess you two are still friends,” Marianne said, putting her hand over her heart. She smiled, although even that looked pretty grim, coming from her. “I’m glad, then, Hilda.”

“Glad to hear it,” Hilda said, wryly. “Good night, now...and forever.”

“Right. Goodbye. Thank you, Hilda.”

Hilda turned and headed back to bed without even checking to see if Marianne had left.

* * *

In the morning, she chalked it up to being a dream. A dream where she was strangely aware of her surroundings and had, for some reason, done the dishes. Normal stuff. Surprisingly, Claude didn’t make a fuss about the dishes the next day. If anything, he did the opposite.

“Great job with the dishes,” he said, clapping sarcastically. “Even though you broke one...at least the other ones are clean.”

“I think I did it while I was sleepwalking or something. It was weird.” Hilda had gotten past her apprehension of telling Claude about what had happened, because it was nothing more than a dream, anyway. “Some dream ghost was upset that we were fighting so I did the dishes to make her go away.”

“We’ve had some wild Friday nights, but I think you’re about to beat a world record.”

Hilda scoffed. “No, seriously! And it was so weird. She kept, like, saying we were her friends. She was seriously sad about us being upset over the dishes? And then she was acting like she knew Ignatz. I think she’s been watching me.”

Claude’s laughter died down. “Well, um...Hilda?”

The way he said her name caught her attention. It was surprisingly deep, with a complete lack of mischief. “Yeah?”

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

“She kept me up for a bit,” Hilda said. Then, she realized how fucking crazy she sounded. Claude was looking at her with parted lips, knitted brows. “I mean, it. The hallucination. I mean, the dream. So, maybe, like...five hours. Not bad.”

“Yeah, but...get some rest, okay? And thanks for doing the dishes,” Claude said. Hilda was starting to wonder if she was seriously insane. Like, actually nuts. She was seeing a walking panic attack in her kitchen in the middle of the night, and now Claude was being nice to her. “I’ll take care of ‘em, now.”

“What? Why?!”

Claude opened his mouth, as if he wanted to give a serious answer. But, he knew how long he could be serious without freaking Hilda out, so he gave a wink instead. “It’ll make your little ghost friend happy.”

* * *

To be fair, Marianne did seem satisfied. She went away, true to her word. Hilda caught up on her sleep that weekend, and Claude was doing all of the dishes, so things were pretty good. All-in-all, everything had worked out in her favor. Although she usually conned other people into doing work instead of doing work herself...well, no dishes, and she felt well-rested come Monday.

And then, of course, Marianne had to show up again.

Hilda had an eight AM lecture, which was bad enough on its own as a concept, but even worse for people like her. So, yeah, she hardly ever went. It was a ridiculous expectation. Honestly, Professor Hanneman should have made a wish every time she showed up, it was that rare. Tuesday came, and so did her lecture, which she graciously decided to skip. 

And when she woke up, Marianne was standing at the foot of her bed, biting her lip nervously. “I’m sorry, Hilda. B-but...you told me to be bolder, so I’m being bold. You should stop skipping your lectures.”

Hilda had severe bedhead, and her back was hurting, and her brain too, and to top it all off...she was hallucinating again. Or dreaming. She couldn’t quite decide which. She sat up, rubbing her eyes in hopes of making Marianne disappear. No, still there, so Hilda had no choice but to engage her in conversation. “When did I tell you that?!”

“A long time ago, I think—but you don’t remember...”

“No, I don’t. And I’m going to keep skipping, so stop trying! I did the dishes. What more could you possibly want?”

“I’d never try to change who you are,” Marianne said. It seemed like she was forcing herself to sound confident, but only barely so; she sounded like if she made herself sound any more assertive, she’d fade away. “But I care about you, and I want you to do well!”

“I’m gonna do fine.”

“...It’s different, here, I think,” Marianne murmured. “Your life doesn’t depend on how hard you train, here...but b-before, it did. So, I hate it when you skip classes. I-it’s okay when you shirk other work, but this is important.”

“Look. I’m not sure how things worked in Germany—or wherever you’re from—back in the day, but here, in this  _ modern era, _ if I fail, I can just take the class again,” Hilda explained. She somehow felt horrible snapping at Marianne. Instead, she’d explain every word to her in the hopes that she’d go away...at least long enough for Hilda to sleep. “Literally, all I’m missing is notes right now. I can just get them from Lysithea or something.”

Marianne still seemed unsure, hiding behind her untrimmed bangs again. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Once again, Hilda felt a twist in her heart. That girl wasn’t real, that girl had no control over emotions, that girl didn’t know her at all. But why did Hilda feel like she knew her? Why did she feel like she  _ knew _ Marianne, like she had to protect her? Why did she do the dishes at four in the morning for some possibly-real ghost when Claude couldn’t have  _ paid _ her to do it?

“I won’t,” Hilda said. It seemed like “it’s just a fucking lecture” wasn’t a good explanation, so she had to try something different. “I’ll be fine. I won’t get hurt. I’ll...I’ll go Thursday. Okay? I promise.”

“Back when I first met you, we had to train all of the time,” Marianne said. “I’m not bold about a lot of things, but...when we first met, if we didn’t learn what we were supposed to learn, then that...that could have been it for us. We could have died. It’s probably different, here, isn’t it...?”

“I-I won’t  _ die  _ if I don’t go,” Hilda mumbled. 

Marianne seemed to calm down, at that. “...You don’t have to go. I’m sorry for trying to make you.”

“I should be going anyway. I guess I just needed someone to kick my ass about it.” Hilda looked at the clock. The lecture was way over, by then. “Thursday, for sure. But I’m gonna go to sleep, for now. Okay, Marianne?”

“Sorry for bothering you,” Marianne said. “Y-you don’t have to go if you don’t really want to. Good night, Hilda.”

That time, Hilda watched Marianne blink out of existence. She faded bit by bit, in what seemed like a sheet of smoke, tinted blue by the cotton-candy color of her hair. Hilda pulled her blankets to her chest, laying down again. 

But, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking of Marianne, of the horror and emptiness in her eyes, of the way she said  _ back when I first met you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hilda: omg some ghost kept me up last night also she had depression i think lol  
claude:  
claude:  
claude: make sure you're practicing self care


	3. Chapter 3

Hilda had dreams, vivid dreams, in that little daytime nap. Violent dreams. And Marianne was the centerpiece.

Of course, Claude couldn’t help showing up too, along with the rest of her friends. But in her dream, they were more than just  _ us, _ more than just  _ our group. _ They were the Golden Deer, and they were in the middle of the early stages of a war. And, more than that, Marianne was apart of their group, their house, the Golden Deer. 

They finally made eight.

Hilda was dressed much like Marianne in her dream, but she still looked exceptionally fashionable. And she had the same pigtails, the same smile, the same pitchy voice. Everything was the same, so normal, except for the fact that she knew how to wield an axe—and the fact that Marianne wasn’t see-through anymore.

Except, perhaps, she was a little see-through. Hilda had very few scenarios in her dream. Instead, her dreams were comprised of several emotions, several vibes, which combined to form an experience. And one of the biggest feelings she had was the need to protect, the need to hold, Marianne. Marianne was still see-through, even in Hilda’s dreams, but nobody felt the need to fuss about it. No, a lot of them just looked through her.

But Hilda couldn’t let it happen. She saw Marianne, so transparent, with nothing inside of her but tears, and held her close. She  _ grounded _ Marianne. So little words were said in Hilda’s dreams—only emotions, strong emotions—but she could remember saying over and over again, “It’s okay, Marianne, I’m here.”

* * *

When it came to Hilda’s friend group, she knew who to go to for whatever she wanted that particular day. Claude for advice in her love life, Raphael for heavy lifting, Lorenz for a tea date, so on and so forth. However, when it came to startlingly clear hallucinations, she wasn’t quite sure who to ask. Claude was already concerned about her, and Lysithea was afraid of ghosts, and Raphael would probably try and punch it...

Ignatz. Ignatz loved the supernatural, and he wasn’t  _ too _ much of a coward, so he would probably be the first to have an actually helpful response. So, she went over to his and Raphael’s shared apartment. Ignatz had stacks of books all over the place, and Raphael was just messy in general, so there was only one place that was freed up for sitting, and Ignatz offered it to Hilda willingly.

“So, you said you had a...scholarly question for me?” Ignatz sat on the floor, legs crossed. “I can’t help but wonder what it is...”

“Not scholarly like ‘historical monarch’ scholarly, or whatever. I mean...the interesting kind,” Hilda said. “Let’s get straight to the point, shall we? I’ve been seeing ghosts.”

Ignatz lit up. “Wh—really? Do you mind if I...take notes?”

“Whatever makes you happy.” Ignatz rummaged around his piles of books for a notebook in pen, then nodded. “So, it started Friday night...or, Saturday morning. Whatever. It’s like four in the morning and I hear some dishes breaking in the kitchen. Long story short, there’s this ghost, and she’s like, ‘you and Claude were fighting over the dishes and I got sad so I tried to clean them myself’. Her name’s Marianne, by the way. And so, I clean the dishes so me and Claude stop arguing. Then, today—you wouldn’t believe this shit—she shows up in my room and tells me to stop skipping my lecture, because if I didn’t, I’d die.”

Ignatz had stopped writing a couple of seconds in, looking up at Hilda with amazement. “Hilda,” he said, gently. He looked down at his notebook, then set it down. He was giving her the  _ same _ look that Claude had given her: confused, slightly upset, and most of all, concerned. Hilda was starting to be convinced that she was going insane. 

“Look, I know it sounds bad—”

“You said her name was...Marianne?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“I’ve been thinking about that name, is all,” Ignatz said. “It’s strange, and maybe unrelated, but I’ve been drawing a girl lately, over and over, and that’s what I decided to name her.”

Hilda felt like she was in a fever dream, but she knew that it was going to get a lot weirder before it got normal. “Show me your drawings.”

Ignatz blushed. “They’re not very good...”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hilda snapped. “Ignatz, I’ve barely fucking slept.  _ Please, _ at least tell me if you’ve seen this girl so I don’t have to be insane by myself.”

Ignatz stood up from his spot on the floor, rifling through his piles and piles of junk again. “I’ve never  _ seen _ her,” he corrected. “I just thought her up, and then I couldn’t stop drawing her. There’s something about her that really strikes me.” Ignatz pulled out a sketchbook, flipping it open to a page. “The drawings start here. I made my first one yesterday, a little after midnight.”

Hilda took the sketchbook into her own hands, looking down at the graphite-laden pages. Ignatz had a peculiar art-style, filled with sharp angles and heavy shading. But Hilda recognized the girl, Marianne. From the eyes, most of all. They were colored in deep, so gray that they were almost black. There was a certain terror in her eyes that Hilda couldn’t describe, like everything that she saw was coated in the darkness that her eyes held.

“This is her,” Hilda said.

“D-don’t mess around!” 

“No, this is her. Right down to the...the eyes.” Hilda flipped through the pages. The drawings varied in angle and pose, but every face had those horrid eyes and that deep-seated frown. Hilda felt a lump in her throat looking at it. “Is there anything else you’ve been thinking about when it comes to her? Have you been thinking...thinking about her being our friend, or something?” 

Hilda considered mentioning the fact that Marianne seemed to know Ignatz, but Ignatz already seemed pretty spooked out, so she kept it to herself. “No, nothing like that. But I feel really, really bad for her. She seems so scared, but I don’t know what she’s scared of. I just want to...give her a hug. A really, really tight one.”

“Yeah,” Hilda said. She looked down at the paper again. The drawings looked like those paintings where the eyes seemed to follow you, no matter where you went. “She looks like she could use one.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i failed my precalc exam but as long as you guys keep giving me validation for this fic i'll be fine <3
> 
> jokes aside, thanks for the support! this was an idea i had for an original novel a while ago that i forgot...then decided to revive. so, here we are.
> 
> that's all...thanks :D

When Hilda returned to her room, Marianne was there, sitting at Hilda’s desk chair. She startled when Hilda entered. As if it wasn’t _ her _ room. Hilda could have _ sworn _ Marianne had said she was going to go away...

Still, Hilda had gotten somewhat used to her presence. Perhaps it was Ignatz, confirming her existence as an entity. Ignatz didn’t have much to offer besides his drawings, but it was enough for Hilda to feel a little more comfortable with her insanity. If she _ was _ insane, at least she had a friend to be insane with her.

“Hi, Marianne,” Hilda said, setting her purse on her desk. “How’s it going?”

“Um,” Marianne began. That was all she said for a while. In fact, it seemed like she didn’t really want to say much else. She was uncomfortable, now that Hilda was talking to her like a normal person. “How was your day?”

Hilda sat down on her bed, sighing heavily. “Well, I’ve been thinking about you a hell of a lot. And I have a bunch of questions. So does Ignatz.”

“Ignatz? He asked...about me? He knows?”

Marianne was more energetic and expressive than Hilda had ever heard her when she asked that. “Yeah, I guess he knows you exist, in his own little way. And you seem to think you know him, too, so I really have to ask—”

“How is he doing? Is he still...does he still use the bow? Is he still always thinking about the Goddess? Ignatz doesn’t seem like the kind of person who changes easily, anyway...”

“What? I mean, he did archery in high school, but I don’t know about any Goddess,” Hilda said, eyebrows knitted. “But, look, Marianne, why do you care if—”

“I miss him,” Marianne said, forlorn. Hilda couldn’t bombard her with any questions, after she used _ that _ tone. “And...everyone else, too. Raphael. And Leonie, and Lysithea. And Claude...even Lorenz. I wish I could see them. Or, I wish they could see me.”

How did she know them? Hilda didn’t doubt her. The loneliness in her voice, the longing, it wasn’t something somebody could make up. But _ how _ did she know them? “You really miss them, huh? I’d miss them, too, I guess, if I ended up...becoming a ghost. So, I’ll throw you a bone.” Marianne sat up a little straighter, brushing her bangs out of the way. “I can throw a little sleepover tonight! They’ll all come over. Really, they won’t even think twice about it. Will you stop being so sad, then? If I do that?”

“Hilda,” Marianne said. She put her hands to her face. Even when she was half-transparent, Hilda could still see a blush forming on her cheeks. “I...yes. I’d love that. And, I promise, I’ll leave you alone—”

“Oh, don’t bother. The fact is, you’re gonna come back anyway,” Hilda said. Marianne shrank a bit, and Hilda continued quickly. “But that’s okay! Look, I really don’t hate having you around. If I did, I wouldn’t be helping you out, would I? Just...make sure you don’t break any more dishes. And don’t wake me up when I’m skipping! Deal?”

Marianne smiled, for once. Even though it looked sad, and shaky, and forced, she smiled. “Deal.”

* * *

Just as Hilda expected, one text to the group chat with promises of food and a movie had the entire gang coming through. Claude didn’t question her, either, but Marianne was constantly fretting, wondering if Hilda’s friends (“their” friends?) would wonder why she had called for such a large meeting.

“The first time, we mostly saw each other in classes,” Marianne explained. “Sometimes we ate together in the dining hall, all of us, but any other time, when Claude would call a meeting...it usually meant something bad was happening.”

“Claude? Why did Claude, specifically, call all the meetings?”

“He was our house leader.” 

“What?”

Marianne didn’t talk after that. She seemed to be caught up in her memories, floating in the corner and waiting for everybody to show up. Hilda wondered if Ignatz would be able to see her, by then, or if anybody else would. Hilda hadn’t seen everybody all at once since she started seeing Marianne. Why would it just be her and Ignatz, anyway? It was arbitrary. If Marianne remembered everybody like she said she did, then why could only Hilda and Ignatz discern her presence, and why could only Hilda see her?

But when the rest of the gang rolled in, nobody had a reaction but Marianne. She cupped her hands to her mouth in surprise, shaking just a little. But Hilda couldn’t ask if she was okay; everybody would want to know who the hell she was talking to. So, Hilda just greeted everyone normally, like nobody else was there.

“Nice! Look at that snack layout,” Raphael yelled, dashing over to the kitchen island. 

Lysithea scolded him for eating too fast, and Marianne started giggling. Lorenz complimented Lysithea on her beauty (again), and Marianne started to flush. Claude started gabbing about his latest scheme, and Marianne paled in fear. Hilda sat on the side of the couch that was closest to Marianne, and Marianne smiled again, but very minutely, as if she were afraid to do it.

After all of the snacks had been shifted into the living room and everyone was stretched out on the couch, the chairs, and the floor, they started the movie. It was a scary movie, with phantoms and ghosts. Hilda wanted to ask Marianne how accurate it all was—did she make ectoplasm? Could she float through walls? Was she there to haunt someone who had wronged her in her first life?

But, once again, Hilda had to stay her tongue. And, honestly, it wasn’t hard. Marianne was a silent presence, although a heavy one. She was simply there—see-through. But Hilda, every now and then, hung her arm over the side of the couch so she could brush the back of her hand against Marianne’s. She’d stretch and pat Marianne’s arm when she seemed afraid of the movie. Hilda was doing everything she could, trying to make Marianne solid again, trying to bring everyone’s attention to her.

Slowly but surely, as the night progressed, Hilda felt as if was Marianne shifting her way into the room, making something tangible. As if they were making eight again.


	5. Chapter 5

Hilda had a dream of a cathedral. It was dark, but warm, lit by a path of candles and torches. She reached the altar there, and saw Marianne kneeling, whispering to herself. Hilda wanted to call out, ask her where she was, what they were doing—unlike the other dreams, she didn’t understand where she was. Any other context had been far removed from her.

Oh, how she wanted to ask, but her lips couldn’t form the words. The warmth of the cathedral slowly faded, until she was left with nothing inside of her but emptiness. A draft blew in from the outside, blowing out the candles, blowing right through Hilda and rattling her bones. The chill only grew worse as she came closer, heard Marianne’s words.

Finally, she was able to whisper, “Marianne?”

But Marianne’s head did not lift. Her hands were shaking, clasped together, her chin was tucked to her chest. Fervently, she continued to whisper one long, unending sentence in a tortured voice. “...Please, Goddess, take me from this land, take me into your arms, erase the scourge you have set upon this world..."

* * *

Like every other aspect of her and Claude’s friendship, Claude and Hilda working in the same mall was just a coincidence. Just another twist of fate that brought them together. Hilda did wish that fate was a little more convenient, though; Claude worked in a high-end clothing boutique near the food court, which was at the opposite end of the mall when compared to the makeup shop Hilda worked at. He usually came down to her end to bring lunch, which they’d eat near the mall’s fountain, but occasionally, she made the stroll down to Claude’s store.

When Marianne decided to show up at her job, looking bright and happy from the previous night’s sleepover, Hilda took her on a walk through the mall.

“Just like the market,” Marianne said.

“We have markets here, too,” Hilda said, excited to finally be on a decently modern wavelength with Marianne. “I’ll take you to one, at some point.”

“I guess they...I don’t think they sell weapons, there, nowadays.”

“Yeah, no...” Hilda chuckled awkwardly. They passed by the fountain; they were halfway to Claude’s store. She hadn’t meant to go that far, but...they might as well go see Claude while they were at it. It would make Marianne happy.

“I’m glad you don’t need them. Weapons, I mean.”

“I mean, there  _ are _ wars going on, but they use guns,” Hilda explained. “Kinda like the bows and arrows Ignatz uses...used? But, um, they’re a  _ lot _ faster. And the arrows are called bullets. I mean, this explanation assumes I know how a bow works.”

Marianne shook her head. “You didn’t know how to use it very well when I knew you. Mostly the axe.”

An axe...yeah, Hilda could get behind that. It wasn’t the  _ cutest _ weapon, but it did the trick. If real wars were anything like Ignatz’s Dungeons and Dragons campaigns, Hilda would have preferred to be a mage, or something. They were probably rather attractive.

Marianne seemed to have drifted off into her own head again, which meant Hilda had to stop asking questions about the past. Even the lighter, happier ones—what did the “Golden Deer” do in their spare time, did Marianne’s Hilda like bon-bons too, stuff like that—made Marianne seem even more transparent than before. Did she want to remember, or not? Marianne was a fragile thing, though, so Hilda couldn’t push her too far or ask too much.

They enjoyed their walk to the food court, where they found Claude, standing in line at a burger place. Marianne smiled when she saw him, floating slightly ahead of Hilda. Claude turned around, looking right through Marianne and into Hilda’s eyes. “Wow! The princess made a trek—the long, five minute trek—to the food court?!”

“Just felt like it,” Hilda said. She glanced at Marianne, who was nearly beside herself with joy. She wasn’t very expressive, but...Hilda could just  _ feel _ happiness, radiating off of Marianne. No, she couldn’t have been lying about knowing Claude. “I’m gonna go get sushi, so...”

“Find us a table, too. This line is long as hell, you’ll get your food before me.”

Marianne searched the food court, then floated off. Hilda looked at her, watching her drift right to an empty table and stand by it. “Found one,” Hilda said.

Claude looked to where Hilda was looking, then turned back to the line of the burger place with a sigh. He was right; Hilda made it in and out of the sushi line in five minutes, then back to the table Marianne had flagged down. Really, Hilda didn’t know what she would have done if someone had taken it, since Marianne seemed to be trying to keep it occupied with no body.

Hilda began to eat, then looked up at Marianne, who was watching her. “Um...I hate that I have to ask this,” Hilda started, “but do you, like, get hungry? Ever?”

“No.”

“...Or thirsty?”

“U-um, no. Or sleepy. I never have to use the bathroom, either.”

“Convenient,” Hilda exclaimed.

“I miss having a body, actually,” Marianne said. She didn’t sound sorrowful, just...vacant.

Hilda tried to keep the mood light. Besides, Marianne shut down if she talked too much about her old life. “What’s the point in having a body if you don’t dress it up all cute, anyway?! I mean, I get the aesthetic you’re going for, but it’s the twenty-first century. Look, you can hold things, right?”

“Hold...? Um, yes. But not for very long. It tires me out...”

“Just a little will be fine. When we get back to the apartment, I’ll pick out a cute outfit for you, and we’ll have a little fashion show—”

“Hilda? Who exactly are you talking to?”

Hilda turned her head so fast that her neck nearly snapped. Claude was standing next to her with his lunch, sipping from his straw suspiciously. Hilda giggled, a bit maniacally. “Um, myself, silly! I-I was thinking aloud, that’s all. I was gonna go get some new lingerie after work, and model it for myself later on!”

“Good save, Hilda,” Marianne said. Hilda would have usually taken that as a sarcastic remark, but it seemed rather genuine.

“Oh. Almost thought you were talking to your little  _ ghost _ friend,” Claude said. Hilda had hoped he had forgotten about it, but it would take a brain injury for Claude to forget other people’s shortcomings. He took his seat, then reached across the table and grabbed Hilda’s hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “You see that, ghostie?! Me and Hilda are friends, we’re all friends! Don’t be sad!”

Marianne cupped her hands to her face, trying to hide a giggle. She was so adorable when she giggled, and she snorted a little bit. That was what made Hilda’s smile finally break into laughter. Of course, she couldn’t say  _ that. _ “Claude, you’re, like,  _ so _ funny. Wow! Hilarious.”

“At least try and sound like you’re telling the truth...” Claude took his burger out of his bag, unwrapping it and digging in. Hilda wanted to gag at all the oil and mustard and...ugh. For a femme boy, Claude sure did eat like a pig in a barn.

“Must have been hungry,” Marianne remarked.

“Yeah,” Claude said, through a mouthful of his burger. 

“Yeah, what?” Hilda said. That was a very coincidental reply. It was almost as if Claude was answering Marianne’s question, but that was impossible.

“I was hungry.”

Oh no. “What?”

“You said I must have been hungry?”

“No...?”

“Hilda, you just did, stop fucking with me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you—okay, then who did, if not you? The ghost?”

“Yes,” Hilda said. She had come to terms with Marianne being a thing, but everyone else...it would be quite the challenge. Every time she remembered that nobody else could see Marianne, she was reminded of her looming insanity. “You  _ must _ have heard her, because she just said it, and I didn’t, so stop fucking joking about it. I heard her say it, and she’s real, and you hear her too now, and Ignatz also knows she’s real, and jesus fucking Christ, Claude, you called me crazy the first time I mentioned it but now you hear too, so I’m  _ not _ crazy. Or maybe you’re crazy, too.”

Claude set his burger down. Then, right there, in the middle of the mall’s food court, Claude turned his head and looked a ghost right in the eyes. “Huh. Believe it or not, I see her too, now.”

“Um...please don’t stare at me so directly. It makes me nervous,” Marianne whispered.

“Sorry?” Claude said. “Yeah, I’m going to look away in the hopes that you’ll disappear, and I can pretend this never happened.”

“Hey! Don’t talk to her like that,” Hilda snapped. “She’s here, and she’s not leaving. Trust me, I tried.” Marianne clasped her hands awkwardly. “D-don’t take that the wrong way, Marianne, it’s a joy to have you here.”

Claude turned back to Marianne, then put his head in his hands. “Oh, my God. She’s still there. And she’s half-transparent. That’s...that’s a ghost. Hilda, what are we going to do?”

“Nothing? Be nice to her? She’s very pleasant. I mean, she broke a plate that one time, but she was apologetic about it.”

Claude turned to Marianne. It was so weird to watch someone else make eye contact with her. Hilda even felt a bit...jealous. Ignatz knew of her, but nobody else really saw her until then...probably. “Huh. Breaking plates, eh? Well, at least you’re sorry about it. You’re already a better roommate than Hilda. Pull up a chair.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feels like a short chapter. sorry! hopefully ill write more over thanksgiving break. or maybe i'll just get sleepy and hibernate through it...

Claude really did treat Marianne like she was a tangible, living thing. He asked her if she wanted anything whenever he went to the gas station, despite the fact that she had no physical needs. He always asked if she wanted to use the bathroom before he went in to take a dump (even though he never asked  _ Hilda, _ but okay). Whenever they sat on the couch, Claude scooted over to make room for the zero square inches of Marianne’s body. At first, Hilda thought he was teasing or making fun of Marianne, but he seemed genuine, and Marianne took no offense to it.

After a while, though, even Claude caught on to the strangeness of it all. “So,” he remarked, dragging it out, as they watched TV. “It’s just me, Hilda and Ignatz that know about you, Marianne?”

“I think so,” Marianne said. “If anybody else has seen me, they decided to ignore me.”

“Y’know...” Hilda tugged at the hem of her skirt. Claude was a nosy bastard, and while he was quite compassionate, there was no telling how far he’d push Marianne to learn the truth about where she came from, why she was there, why Hilda and her specific friend group was slowly starting to see her. Hilda wanted to know, too. She wanted to know if those dreams she’d been having had any substance, or if she was just letting her imagination run ahead of her...but when she saw the dark, empty look in Marianne’s eyes, she forced herself to keep her mouth shut. Claude was different, though. “I’m really curious about how this all links together. How you remember all of us, and how only we can see you, and...well, the way you dress. You’re obviously from a different time period.”

Hilda huffed. “Claude, why are you badgering her with things she already knows? She knows she’s not from this time period, she knows it’s weird that only some of us can see her. She knows.”

“Well, I was going to ask her a few things. To see just how  _ much _ she knows, I guess,” Claude said. He trampled over Hilda’s little protests, going straight into his questioning. “Like...I dunno. Ghosts become ghosts when they die, right? So, why did you...or,  _ how, _ if you don’t mind, did you—”

“Claude,” Hilda warned.

“I died in the war,” Marianne said, quickly and quietly. “It was unceremonious, really. And I don’t know why you two are human and I’m not. I don’t know. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Claude insisted, “I’m just trying to make sense of it all, y’know? But it’s hard to do that if you’re not being completely honest.”

He didn’t have to point that out. Obviously, there were things Marianne was choosing not to say, but pointing out that she wasn’t saying them wouldn’t magically make her say them. Claude was being callous, no matter how soft his tone. Hilda had to step in. “Claude, enough. Seriously. If she wanted to tell us more, she would have.”

“It’s not that I’m not being honest...” Marianne continued to reply, even though Hilda had made it incredibly clear that she didn’t have to fess up if she didn’t feel like it. Of course. Marianne thought Claude was her friend—no, Claude  _ was _ her friend, it wasn’t just in her head—and she couldn’t lie to him with a clear conscience. But she couldn’t bring herself to say the things she had hidden away, either.

So, she disappeared. In a puff of smoke that curled in the air, she disappeared. She hadn’t made any grand exits in front of Claude, yet, but Claude seemed unfazed by the fading smoke. He was scratching at his beard with a lopsided frown. “Well,” Hilda said. “You scared her off.”

“I wasn’t  _ mean, _ Hil. I was just asking.”

“‘How did you die? Why are you lying to us?’ You sounded like an asshole!”

“Hilda, I get that you really wanna fuck this ghost, but one, it’s not going to happen—like, physically—and two, we know nothing about her other than the fact that she knew the not-us us. She’s basically a stranger. A really polite and adorable one, but a stranger.  _ Sorry _ for trying to get to know her a little.”

“I don’t want to fuck a ghost, Claude.”

“Is that the only part that you heard, or it’s the only part you had an argument for?”

Hilda was irritated with Claude. Nothing new, but every now and again, she got fed up with it. But that anger she felt was a little more than “every now and again”. She was pissed, and she missed Marianne, and the  _ only _ reason she wasn’t going to chew Claude out more was because Marianne would probably hate that. So, Hilda stood up from the couch and walked back into her room without another word.

* * *

Claude knocked on Hilda’s door later to apologize, but she didn’t move from her bed. Perhaps that was the key to getting Marianne to reappear, because moments after Claude left (after being ignored for five minutes), Marianne was sitting at the foot of Hilda’s bed. Hilda sat up, whispering to Marianne; not so Claude wouldn’t know that she was talking to a ghost, but because said ghost was going to be interrogated if Claude knew she was there.

“Thanks for asking Claude to...um, stop,” Marianne said. She didn’t have to work to keep her voice low. If anything, she had to work to make it louder.

“It’s fine. He went overboard. Really, he’s just...ugh. He hates not knowing things, is all.”

“No. He was like that...in my time, too,” Marianne said. She put her hand over her heart, then laid the other hand over the first one. “He always wanted to know the truth. He...wouldn’t stop until he knew it, until he could use it for the better. So, I couldn’t say no to him. Because he reminded me of...the Claude that I knew.”

“In your time, things were worse, though. Maybe the people he asked questions about deserved to have their life dug into. But you...you’re here, and you’re so nice, and so sweet, and you need someone to be your friend. Why can’t we just do that? Why does he have to ask?”

“It is a little weird, Hilda.” Marianne giggled. “I mean...I’m a ghost. And I’m here, and I know you, and all of the other Golden Deer. Don’t you ever wonder why?”

Wondering? Yeah. Hilda did a hell of a lot of that. But, to be honest, maybe she didn’t want to know the answers to her own questions. She thought of the empty look in Marianne’s eyes, the self-loathing in her voice as she swept up the broken plate, the dream where she begged for her Goddess to kill her. Things were fine. It could be like that forever. Hilda didn’t want to see what it was like back then, it didn’t matter. “I wonder,” Hilda admitted. “But I can see it in your eyes, Marianne. Whatever happened back then, it hurt. Whatever made you this way—if you even know what it is—it obviously hurt. So why mind it? It’s in the past. You’re here, now! And, I know, it must suck not having a body, but...but...I don’t want to see you sad, Marianne, because you’re dredging up memories of the past. If you want to talk to Claude, that’s fine. I won’t stop you. But if you want to never ever talk about why you’re here, I won’t bring it up.”

“Hilda,” Marianne breathed. Her nails were digging into her dainty little see-through hands. Did it even hurt? “Why I’m here...like this...maybe it was for the best. That’s all I want Claude to know. If the Goddess made it so that you all came back, all of you lived a happy life, and I wasn’t there to weigh you down, then that was how it was meant to be. Tell Claude that I’m happy this way, even if it might not look like it.”

“Me? Why do I have to tell him?”

“I’m going to go away for a while. Just a while.”

“...Oh. Sorry. Was it me? Or...Claude, or—”

“N-neither. It’s just overwhelming. Ignatz knows about me, and Claude can see me, and you...most importantly, you.”

“Me, what?”

“D-don’t ask,” Marianne said. Then, she floated over to Hilda’s desk chair, sitting in it primly. Hilda flopped back to her mattress, staring at Marianne with heavy-lidded eyes. “I’ll stay here tonight. Just for a bit.”

Hilda scooted over in her bed. Marianne averted her eyes, like she didn’t know what it meant. “Come on, I made space for you.”

“I don’t really need...um...okay.”

Marianne drifted off of the chair, into Hilda’s bed. She drifted right through the sheets, in fact. Hilda didn’t touch her too often, but when Marianne’s leg moved too close to Hilda’s, Hilda felt a tingling on her skin, like TV static. But it made heat, like a person’s skin. Marianne didn’t notice, though. Hilda leaned forward and pressed her forehead to Marianne’s. That, Marianne couldn’t ignore. 

“I wish I was see-through, too,” Hilda whispered. “Maybe then...you could see how fast my heart beats when I’m thinking about you.”

Marianne lifted a hand, and it hovered in front of Hilda’s chest. Then, she dropped it, bashful. “Mine...would be beating fast, too. I think. Just pretend you can hear it.”

Hilda shut her eyes. She pretended. And she felt it. A steady beat, parallel to her own heart’s drum. Bang, her heart went, then bang, went Marianne’s, on the off-beat. Hilda thought about that rhythm, that thrum, until she lulled herself to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long i was too busy being h*rny on twitter.

Hilda had more dreams. She was in that world again, in the war, with the Golden Deer, but Marianne wasn’t there, and she was a little older, and the land seemed a little more barren, but the war was coming to an end. But the Golden Deer only made seven, so nothing felt quite right.

Hilda had dreams of the night the war ended. The night where Claude began to rebuild Fodlan. There were celebrations, feasts, dancing and singing and laughing. Hilda watched Claude make his speech about how Fodlan would be united, how everyone would be welcome.

But how could everyone be welcome? The person who really mattered had been forgotten. He talked about those whose lives had been lost, but he never mentioned her by her name. As if it was poisonous to his tongue. Nobody mentioned her anymore.

* * *

The next couple of days felt a bit hazy. Things had returned to “normal”, with Marianne being gone, but nothing really felt normal. If anything, Hilda’s life felt less normal than before. The silent, nagging feeling of _ eight _ was no longer silent, no longer merely nagging. Hilda felt Marianne’s absence every time she saw the rest of the Golden Deer. It wasn’t the same. Her time with them felt stale, felt empty, and so, _ so _ off. She was missing something, someone, and she couldn’t do anything about it.

Claude asked Hilda about Marianne over and over again. “If you see her again, tell her I’m sorry for pushing. Really, seriously sorry.”

“It’s not your fault she left,” Hilda said. He was perhaps a bit of a catalyst, but Marianne seemed upset for other reasons, too. “I just...it feels weird, Claude. I know she’s a ghost, she’s already dead, but I’m worried about her.”

“I get it.” Hilda gave Claude a stern look, sure that he was toying with her. “No, I mean it. Like, the thing with the movie tickets you told me about a while ago. I think I’ve been feeling that. Everyone else, has, too.”

Again, Hilda felt that weird mix of jealousy and happiness that Marianne was starting to be recognized. “How do you mean?”

“I know you’ve been taking depression naps in your room all week, but I went out to lunch with everyone yesterday. They kept saying they’d been feeling weird. Not just Ignatz and me, everyone. Lysithea said she could have _ sworn _someone was in her apartment, and Leonie said someone was watching her train, and Raphael said he thinks someone was eating dinner with him, and Lorenz—”

“That can’t be. Why can we see her, and not them?”

“Who knows? I _ tried _ to ask Marianne about it, but someone got upset—”

“Claude...”

“I’m just saying. Whatever this mystery is, it likely won’t get solved until Marianne fesses up a bit.”

Hilda played with her hair, a frequent nervous tic. “Let me ask her,” Hilda said. Her voice had very little commitment in it, because she _ wasn’t _ committed. The dreams she’d been having, the horror in Marianne’s eyes...why did Claude have to be so nosy? Why couldn’t Marianne just exist as she was—whatever she was? Hilda knew it was unreasonable, knew that people would ask questions, but she was perfectly fine before Claude decided to start asking questions. “But if she says she doesn’t want to say, I won’t force her. And you shouldn’t either.”

“Look, I said I was sorry. Maybe you’ll get through to her,” Claude said. “You’ve got to be curious, right? This isn’t a normal thing, y’know.”

“I know it’s not...”

“Let’s wait it out. She’ll be back eventually.”

* * *

Hilda decided not to sulk for much longer. Claude was right, Marianne would come back eventually, and she hated seeing Hilda sad. Hilda liked to think that if she put on a happy front, Marianne would come back even faster. While she was plastering a smile on her face, Hilda was also considering her approach for asking Marianne about her past. Where did she start? Should she do a subtle transition, or should she just straight up say “why are you here”?

Two weeks passed, with not even a hint of Marianne in Claude and Hilda’s apartment. Hilda went out with Claude and the rest of the Golden Deer (when the hell did she start calling them that?) a few times, though, and they all seemed to agree that something weird was happening. Hilda considered telling them what was going on, but she had to wait. She was starting to feel that same hunger for the truth that Claude was feeling. She liked Marianne, she liked her a lot, but how much did she really know about her, other than what those horrible dreams had told her?

Right. The dreams. Maybe she’d start there.

Marianne reappeared without much of a presence. Hilda came home from her evening lecture, and Marianne was sitting at her desk chair. “Hi,” Marianne said.

“Marianne!” Hilda said. She ran to give Marianne a hug, but her arms passed right through. She pulled back, laughing. “Oh. Whoops.”

“That felt weird,” Marianne said, but she was smiling. Hilda’s skin was warm, she felt a little vibration in her bones. Marianne seemed brighter, somehow. More solid. “How...how is class?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started.” Hilda’s heart was racing, but not in the _ man, Marianne is so cute, I wish she wasn’t transparent so we could like, actually cuddle _ kind of way. It was in the _ I’m about to ruin this friendship, aren’t I _ kind of way. But they couldn’t go on like they were going on, no matter how much Hilda wanted to. She had to know. “What did you do, while you were gone?”

“I saw...the rest of them.” Hilda sat on her bed, nodding. Marianne didn’t need to say who she was talking about. “I’ve mostly been with you and Claude. But the rest of the Deer, they’re all the same, too.”

Marianne seemed so happy. So content. Hilda’s heart swelled. “Were they in the war, too?”

“...We had no choice.”

“Oh.” Marianne was slipping away, Hilda could feel it. She didn’t want to talk about this. Hilda just bringing up the war wasn’t going to work. She decided to bring up the dreams. “Marianne, I had a dream about you. Well, several.”

“You did?” Marianne lit up. _ There we go. _

“Yeah. Dreams of...the time where you came from, I think. And they were really happy, at first. With all the...the Golden Deer. But then, Marianne, I had another dream, and you said some things that kind of scared me. We were in this huge church building, and you were praying, and maybe I heard something wrong, but it sounded a _ lot _ like you were asking some goddess to kill you.”

Marianne grew deathly silent. Hilda held her breath, hoping that Marianne didn’t poof her way out of the room like all of the other times she got scared. But Marianne didn’t leave. She looked Hilda right in the eyes.

And she began to cry.

They weren’t real tears. They went down Marianne’s cheeks, dripped off of her chin, then disappeared into the air. Hilda couldn’t hold her breath longer, and she began to breathe heavily, trying so hard to stop herself from crying too.

“I don’t think that was a dream. I think it was a memory,” Marianne said.

What difference did it make? Hilda was the master of avoiding awkward conversations, and she knew Marianne was tearing a page out of her book. “But...she didn’t kill you, right? You died in the war.”

“I died during the war.”

“But someone killed you, right? That’s what you’re saying?”

“No, Hilda...” Hilda pulled her knees to her chest. “I did it. I-I did it myself.”

“No, you didn’t,” Hilda insisted. She didn’t want to believe it. Marianne was saying it all with such a blank face, like she was forcing herself to forget it, pretend it never happened. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“I can’t say how I...it’s different—better, now. In our time, people were branded from the moment they were born, and I was labelled a burden,” Marianne explained. “No wonder what I did, I was bound to be a failure. I never did anything right, and as time went on, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was afraid, Hilda...afraid of letting everyone down. Of letting _ you _ down.”

Hilda stiffened at the sound of her name. “Why would you be afraid of letting me down?”

“Because you meant a lot to me. You still do,” Marianne admitted. She wiped her tears away, smiling bashfully. “You were everything I wanted to be, Hilda. You were pretty, and strong, and you were kind enough to be nice to someone like me. You held my hand, and told me I was perfect just how I was, and helped me even though I was so useless. I-I was happy to see that you hadn’t changed at all. I thought of it as a blessing from the Goddess that you accepted me, just like you used to. And maybe it was a blessing that I’m not here with you all, now...”

“What do you mean? It’s not a blessing that you’re not here. It’s a fucking curse,” Hilda shouted. “Everyone—it’s not just me—has been feeling like there’s something missing, and it has to be you, Marianne. Sure, it was only me at first, but ever since I brought you around, everybody’s been acting strange. Didn’t you see it when you watched over everyone else? We missed you. Even before we knew you existed. And I’m sure everyone felt the same way, even back then, no matter how you were labelled.”

“I don’t care about everyone else.” Hilda’s eyes widened. “I-I didn’t mean it like that! I love them, and they’re all just as important to me as you, but you were the first one I wanted to find. You mean...a lot to me. Enough for me to be selfish and say that I want to be around you, even if I don’t think I deserve it. I just wish I had realized that back then...”

Hilda didn’t know what to say. Marianne was looking at her with such sincerity, with the tiniest spark in her dark eyes. Marianne attempted to smile wider, but it looked so dreadful that Hilda couldn’t help laughing a bit. Marianne reverted to frowning, at that. “You’re here now, Marianne, and that’s all that matters. I’m happy you told me. Now you can tell me all about what it was like back then, and tell me how great I was! But, of course, I’ll tell _ you _ how great _ you _ are, too. Because...you’re really great. And I love you.”

Hilda couldn’t bring herself to worry about what she’d said, because Marianne didn’t hesitate to give her reply. Even before Marianne spoke, Hilda knew what she was going to say. Like they’d said it before.

“I love you, too, Hilda.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hilda fucks a ghost! hilda fuuvcsknfnskwefsg

“So, you and the friendly ghost are dating?”

“Yes, but Claude, don’t talk like she’s not right here.”

“Oh, sorry. I’ve been doing pretty good with it, though.”

Marianne had become an unofficial third roommate. Claude had once joked about her paying rent, but since she had no use for utilities or water, it kind of fell flat. Marianne seemed jealous, at times, of Hilda and Claude, as they went about their daily routine.

“Don’t take that kind of thing for granted,” Marianne said. “Holding things, and eating things, and using the bathroom...”

Hilda might have taken the last one for granted, a little. In fact, she failed to see any advantage to it. But Marianne told her to enjoy it, so she did. It wasn’t hard to enjoy things more when Marianne was around, really. Going to class, hanging out with her friends, eating, just existing...it was like life had a new filter on it, a new gloss. She’d even been helping Claude with the dishes. Marianne was more open with her, talking about what things were like in her time—what they were like, what they did, what all happened.

Recently, she’d decided to start telling them about the rest of their classmates. “Edelgard von Hresvelg started a  _ war? _ I mean, she was always kind of a priss...I didn’t expect that,” Claude said. “Man...do you think she’d do it now?”

“She went to Dorothea’s high school. I heard she started a few fights.”

“So...she  _ would _ start a war?”

“Well, she already did,” Marianne said. “Don’t you...learn about it in school? In history?”

Claude shook his head. “If we did, then all of us would be in the history books, right?”

“I guess that’s true. Never mind. Sorry...”

“Sheesh, Marianne! Pick your head up. It was a good question,” Hilda said. Well, not really, but Hilda hated seeing Marianne down on herself. “It’s really weird how some of this can’t be explained. But, whatever! We know all there is to know, so let’s move on with our lives.”

“I agree. To moving on, I mean,” Claude said. “Say, Marianne, what do you think about meeting everyone in the Golden Deer?”

“Um...there’s no point if they can’t see me. I-I would like to see them again, if that’s what you mean.”

“No! I mean meeting them. Like, for real. We can have them all over, and Hilda can introduce you!”

_ And I thought  _ I  _ liked to run my mouth. Claude takes the cake.  _ “Y’know, Claude...we’re kinda just settling in to everything,” Hilda explained. “We’re getting used to...this. It’d just be weird to—"

“Okay. I’ll try.” Even Claude seemed surprised at Marianne’s guts, as if he’d asked just for her to say no. Hilda thought she was hearing things. But Marianne seemed confident, smiling her shaky little smile. “If they don’t see me...then we’ll just forget about it. But we have nothing to lose, right?”

“That’s the spirit,” Claude said. He tried to clap Marianne on the back, but his hand went right through her. He pulled back and shook off the static. “Tomorrow night, okay? We’ll order a bunch of pizza, and watch some movies...but before all that, you’re going to introduce yourself. Or, um, re-introduce yourself.”

“What happened to  _ me _ introducing her?” Hilda huffed.

“You told me to stop talking like she’s not here, didn’t you? Don’t smother her, now, Hilda.”

“I can do it myself,” Marianne said. For a moment, Hilda felt a bit left behind, knowing that Marianne was growing into her own skin, but she quickly corrected herself. What would it be like, to share the joy she’d been feeling with Marianne with everybody else? It’d be magical, she knew it. Besides, she knew what Marianne felt for her. It made her happy to see Marianne so willing to get along with others, to show herself to people. “But...you’ll be there, right, Hilda?”

Ah, there it was. Hilda couldn’t help liking feeling needed, especially by someone like Marianne. “Yeah. I’ll be there, for sure.”

* * *

Marianne seemed happy the whole day, happier than ever before. She’d had a glow about her the past few days—as much as a ghost can glow, anyway—but after Claude invited all of the Golden Deer over, Marianne seemed even brighter. It was a weekend, so Hilda had nothing to do but laze around with Marianne, which was...exactly what she wanted to be doing, actually. 

After Claude called up the Deer and told them to be there the next night, he was off. “Don’t wanna get in the way of the lovebirds.”

Surprisingly, Hilda was more flustered than Marianne. Hilda sputtered and stuttered, trying to craft a comeback, but just found herself looking like a fool. Marianne simply didn’t speak, hands clasped together.

It was kind of nice to hang out without Claude in the way, though. They were on the couch, instead of being holed up in Hilda’s room. Cuddling was difficult, but they were figuring it out. Hilda had started to notice warmth coming off of Marianne, when they were “touching”, so they usually just sat with their legs intertwined. Hilda never felt so much happiness coming off of Marianne than when they were like that, on the couch, watching television.

Marianne liked Disney, Hilda learned. Musicals and singing and animated animals. Marianne loved animals. “The only thing I miss more than the Golden Deer is my horse, Dorte,” Marianne said, as they watched some nature show. Hilda was bored to death, but Marianne was enamored, and that was entertainment enough. “I talked to him all the time. We knew each other’s secrets, and everything. He was the first person...that I told about us.”

“About us?”

“W-well, yes,” Marianne said. She began to fiddle with her fingers, staring straight at the TV in an attempt to ignore Hilda. “We...were together back then, too.”

“Really?! You never told me that,” Hilda exclaimed. “Wow! We were dating back then, and we’re dating now. We’re like...star-crossed lovers.”

“Hilda, that’s...I don’t think that phrase means what you think it means,” Marianne said. “But, yes, we were dating back then, too.”

“Who asked who out first?”

“I-I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Hilda frowned, shoving Marianne. Or, she tried to, anyway. Marianne still flinched like she’d really been pushed, though. Hilda shut the TV off, turning to Marianne with a pout. “No horses until you tell me.”

“That’s not fair...!”

“Come on, tell me. How did we get together?”

“It’s so dumb,” Marianne said. “And...embarrassing.” Hilda simply stared and nodded, waiting for Marianne to continue. Dumb and embarrassing?  _ Claude _ was Hilda’s best friend. That was hardly a deterrent. Marianne finally relented, looking at Hilda from beneath her eyelashes. “We were in my room, having tea and pastries...and then y-you asked me out of nowhere i-if I’d ever kissed someone. And I said no. So, you kissed me. And then you asked me if I liked it, and I said yes, and then you asked me if I’d ever been with a girl...and then I said of  _ course _ not, because I hadn’t even kissed anyone until then, and then you said that sometimes people do it without kissing, but it’s better if you do. And then you asked me if I wanted to try it.”

_ Oh. Wow. I was a bold one, huh? _ “Just like that?”

“Yes. Just like that. And then after you asked if I wanted to be your girlfriend.”

“I didn’t ask until after? That’s kind of tasteless...”

“I-I didn’t see it that way. I thought it was...romantic.”

“I hate to tell you this, but that was like, the  _ opposite _ of romantic. Kinda smooth, if you ask me, but romantic isn’t the word.” Marianne laughed a little bit. She was still twiddling her thumbs, but she seemed happier, then. “Hey, Marianne. Was it nice?”

“Huh?”

“Was it nice? Did you like it? Like—okay, I’m really asking, was I good in bed?”

“I don’t know. You were the only person I’d been with, so I had nothing to compare it to, but...I enjoyed it. A lot. I don’t think I was good, though. You said I was, but I think you were just kinda saying that.”

“No, I’m sure you were...” Hilda trailed off. Then, she realized that she was talking about her past self’s sex life, with her past (and current) girlfriend. She laughed, instinctively, because it  _ was _ a little funny. Marianne seemed apprehensive, seeing Hilda laugh, so Hilda stifled the second giggle. “Sorry. This is just pretty weird. Talking about this.”

“Y-yeah. It is,” Marianne agreed. “Especially since we’re probably never going to do it again.”

“Hey, don’t say that! It’s just—well—I mean...” Hilda shifted her leg, moving it through Marianne’s. “It’s not like there’s no sensation when we touch each other. Y’know?”

“Hilda. You can’t be serious. I-I don’t even think I can, um, get aroused. Physically.”

“I know this’ll sound selfish, but...I can.” Marianne got warmer. Hilda moved her leg forward again, further into Marianne’s floating form. It still felt a bit staticky, tingly, but the sensation was stronger than before, coursing deeper through her. “We could make it work. If you want to try.”

Marianne lifted her hand, then put it back in her lap, then lifted it again, and placed it on Hilda’s cheek. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Marianne admitted. “So, sorry.”

“Come on. Let’s go to my room. We’ll figure it out there,” Hilda said. “Wait, um, let me text Claude.”

“What?! Why?!” Marianne jumped back so quickly that her torso went through the arm of the couch. “Why does  _ he _ have to know?”

“Relax, Mari,” Hilda said, taking out her phone. “If either of us has um, company, we just give the other a heads-up. What’s more awkward, me telling him that we're going to fool around, or him walking in on it?”

“I hate b-both of those options.”

Hilda rolled her eyes, opening her and Claude’s texts. It had been a while since she’d even gotten laid. She might have forgotten how to ask these kinds of things.

_ H: where are you _

_ C: at lorenz’s _

_ H: great okay can you like. stay there. for a while. like until twelve maybe.  _

_ C: 👀 who’s the lucky lady _

_ C: hold up. is it the ghost. _

_ C: are you about to fuck a ghost???? _

_ H: she has a name claude please use it _

_ C: are you about to fuck marianne. _

_ C: hilda answer me?!?!!!? _

_ C: how. _

_ H: i honestly DONT know thats why im asking you for 2 hours for us to figure it out. _

_ C: im laughing so fuckign hard and lorenz is asking me why but i cant tell him why this is so difficult for me hilda i cant even explain to you _

_ H: ok see you at twelve claude _

_ C: lmao no see you at 1. two hours isnt enough for you to figure out how to fuck a ghost ill give u the extra hour _

_ H: or just dont ever come back! thats cool too _

“Um...Hilda? Did he say no?”

Hilda turned her screen off, hoping Marianne didn’t notice her blush. Or maybe she’d just chalk it up to Hilda being horny. “No, he said yes. We’ve got the apartment to ourselves until one.”

“Is that enough time for us to figure out—”

“Yes. C’mon, let’s go to my room. Just because he’s not coming back any time soon doesn’t mean we can do it on the couch.” Hilda rushed off to her bedroom, and Marianne followed, close on her heels. Marianne “walked” around, sometimes, but when she was eager, she floated. Hilda couldn’t help noticing that Marianne was floating happily behind her. Hilda closed the door behind them, and sat on her bed casually, legs crossed. “So. Well. Um.”

Marianne idly floated in front of Hilda, waiting for Hilda to speak. But Hilda was waiting for her. Finally, Marianne asked, “Do you remember...the plate I broke? And the fashion show we did?”

“Yeah.”

“I can...touch stuff, like that. Or, like...connect to it, I guess. But not for too long,” Marianne offered. “I can do that. For you, I mean.”

_ Oh. Nice. _ “Yeah, I forgot about that...but, it tires you out, right? We don’t want that too early. So, let’s try a little less direct touching, for now.”

It was fine to touch over clothing when her partners were more tangible, but with Marianne, Hilda thought it’d be more beneficial to strip down. Still, Marianne looked surprised when Hilda pulled her shirt over her head, exposing her bra. She’d worn her cutest lingerie that day—pure coincidence, of course. It was a black lace set that lifted her boobs perfectly, but still kept a good amount of that exposed so Marianne could see their heft.

As cute as the bra looked, Hilda knew she had to take it off eventually. Marianne whispered “oh” when Hilda unhooked it and put it to the side. “Um...they’re really beautiful, Hilda.”

“Beautiful? Really, Marianne, we have to work on your dirty talk.”

“It’s not dirty talk. It’s what I think.” Marianne floated closer with more confidence than Hilda was used to seeing. She hovered over the edge of the bed, turning her body to Hilda. Hilda faced Marianne, smiling at the awe on her face. “They look the same...”

“Well, you said not much has changed. Pretty sure that’d include my tits.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s just—you’re so beautiful.”

Marianne raised her hands, attempting to cup Hilda’s breasts from the sides. Her thumbs grazed over Hilda’s nipples, and Hilda watched them get hard under Marianne’s ghostly touch. It felt kind of nice, actually. The tingling, the warmth. It made her hairs stand on end. It was different than the usual touch she felt, from herself or anyone else. It was unique to Marianne and her suddenly unwavering ghostly form.

“That’s pretty nice...d-don’t just jiggle them around, though. Touch my nipples, more.”

“Like this?” Marianne ran her thumbs over Hilda’s hardening nubs again, pressing down more until her fingers went through. Everywhere Marianne touched, inside and out, Hilda felt vibrations.

Hilda sighed to herself. “And Claude said I couldn’t fuck a ghost.”

“He said that?! What do you guys talk about when I’m not around?”

“Don’t worry about it, just...um, do you plan on just playing with my tits all night?”

“S-sorry. You really liked it when I touched you here, back then,” Marianne explained. 

Hilda was surprised Marianne had even managed to say a thing like that. “What else did she...did I like?”

“You liked...Hilda, this is really weird. I-I don’t even know if people do that kind of thing anymore.”

“Marianne, I’m pretty sure sex practices don’t just expire.”

“You liked it when we sort of...wrapped our legs around each other? And just rubbed against each other. Down there.”

“...Scissoring?” Hilda  _ did _ like that a lot, really.

“Scissoring? What? That sounds painful.”

Hilda groaned. Was she seriously going to have to give Marianne a crash course in sex ed? Well, she’d be glad to, but not when she was turned on. “Okay, forget I asked. I don’t think we could pull that off anyway, how you are now. So let’s do something else.”

Marianne nodded excitedly, watching like a nervous puppy as Hilda pulled her skirt off. Next came her panties—matching so  _ perfectly _ with her bra, God, Hilda was a fashion genius—and then she was left bare before Marianne, who was looking her up and down. As if she hadn’t seen it before. Hilda wondered if Marianne looked at her like that every time, back then, or if she was just so happy to be seeing it again. Hilda liked the former.

“Okay. I remember this part,” Marianne said. “I’m supposed to...touch you here, first.”

Marianne suddenly lost a bit of her courage, hesitating when she moved her hand forward. Hilda nodded impatiently (and somewhat encouragingly), and Marianne’s pointer finger floated over her clit. Marianne regained her confidence, then brought her finger down. Hilda jumped a bit, surprised by how much the sensation affected her. She could instantly sense Marianne’s fear; quickly, she said, “Don’t pull away.”

Marianne laughed. “That means you liked it...right?”

“More than liked it. Put your finger in a little deeper.” That was so strange to say, when Marianne wasn’t even really “inside” of her. But Marianne put her finger through Hilda’s clit, bumping against more of Hilda’s nerves with her touch. It felt like tiny little needles, but all pleasure and no pain. Hilda laid back into her pillows, and Marianne readjusted herself, floating above the bed at an angle. “Oh, wow. Wow, this is—this is, heh, different.”

“Good, though, right?”

“Yeah, it’s like...nothing’s ever touched that deep before, y’know? It’s different,” Hilda said. Marianne’s finger was sliding back and forth, ever so slightly. If she’d gone any deeper, any faster than she was already going, Hilda might have passed out. At first, she thought it might have affected her so strongly because it had been a while, but that wasn’t it. Marianne was something special. “Hey...how long c-can you be solid? Without getting tired?”

Marianne’s finger paused, and Hilda felt a residual hum between her legs, annoying and persistent. “Maybe half an hour...if it’s just my fingers.”

“Trust me, that’ll be enough,” Hilda mumbled. She felt like she was only a few of those clit strokes away from finishing, but she wanted to feel Marianne more directly. To make it feel more real. “Alright. Do you mind putting them inside?”

“How many?”

Hilda flushed at the question, as if she didn’t hear worse from Claude every day. “How many fingers?”

“J-just so I know h-how much to, um...make solid.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” And here Hilda thought Marianne was finally getting filthy. “Three, I guess? Not all at once, though.”

Marianne nodded. Marianne moved a bit, floating over Hilda so that her knees were going through Hilda’s legs. The feeling of Marianne’s body on hers was different when she was turned on, much more noticeable and too hard to ignore. It was almost uncomfortable, how hot it made her.

Hilda was so focused on Marianne’s legs, she didn’t even notice Marianne solidifying herself until she was almost finished. Hilda had seen it once before; her skin seemed healthier, more human, and it was tangible. It was weird to look at just her fingers, while the rest of her was transparent, but Hilda didn’t want to pressure her. And, really, she didn’t need to. Marianne provided an excellent distraction, running her middle and ring fingers across Hilda’s slit. That kind of touch was less overwhelming, more bearable, but it gave Hilda butterflies all the same.

“You said...not all at once. Is two fine?”

“Two’s fine,” Hilda said. She wanted to hold Marianne, but she had to settle for gripping her sheets instead. Marianne pushed in without warning, and Hilda’s back lifted off of the bed a bit. Marianne was touching her, really  _ touching _ her. Marianne was unsure, a bit clumsy, but she was all Hilda’s. “Marianne, I love you...you know that?”

“I love you too, b-but you already told me.”

“I think I might scream it from the rooftop after we’re done,” Hilda said. “‘I love Marianne! She has...really nice hands’.”

“Oh, Goddess...”

Marianne looked down, between Hilda’s legs, watching her own fingers slide in and out. Hilda was watching Marianne’s face, all of the cute expressions of confusion and happiness she was making. Hilda wanted to stroke her hair, run her thumb against Marianne’s lips, then pull her down to give those lips a kiss. She wanted so much more than what she was getting, she wanted  _ everything. _

But sweet Marianne—oh, how she tried. Despite a clear lack of expertise, she touched Hilda with love, with care. She was almost too gentle, but Hilda knew better than to ask her to be rough. Instead, she whispered, “You can add another, now.”

“It’s really wet. I think it’ll go in easy,” Marianne said it. Hilda shuddered, both at her words and the feeling of a third finger going inside of her. Hilda released the fistful of sheets in her right hand, putting her finger right where Marianne’s had been, atop her clit. Marianne slowed her fingers, a stutter in her beat. “Oh—I can make my other hand—”

“I got it, don’t worry. Just...focus on what you’re doing.” That sounded a bit harsh, Hilda realized. “You’re doing great, Mari.”

Marianne’s ghostly hand rested on Hilda’s thigh, another addition to the building pressure in Hilda’s body. Marianne had started going faster on her own, not too rough, but a bit frantic. Hilda wanted to shut her eyes, to lose herself in the feeling, but she couldn’t stop looking at Marianne’s face. Her dead, sunken eyes seemed to be so lively, excited, determined. And her sweet pink-lipped smile, so subtle, that Hilda wanted to kiss off of her. Hilda didn’t want to say it aloud, because Marianne would have certainly been embarrassed, but she thought it over and over again:  _ I love you, Marianne. _

She thought it until her brain felt like mush, until the only thing she was doing was tightening around Marianne’s fingers and stroking her clit, gasping each time her body tensed without her permission. “Hilda...th-the sheets—”

“Marianne, who cares, just...please, keep going.”

“I didn’t say I was going to stop...I mean, I like seeing you like this.”

Hilda didn’t even want to think about how she looked. Her finger was moving a mile a minute against her clit, and Marianne was fucking her with an unexpected sort of passion, and she was already worked up from Marianne touching  _ inside _ of her like that—she definitely looked a mess by then, but Marianne was looking at her like she was the most beautiful girl on Earth.

Hilda forced her eyes shut. Marianne must have remembered what Hilda looked like when she was cumming, because she angled her fingers, searching desperately for Hilda’s sensitive spots, pressing against them with no remorse. Hilda wondered what it felt like the first time, if it was just like that...Marianne not really knowing what to do, but knowing she wanted to give Hilda more; Hilda torn between wanting to moan as loud as she could and wanting to bite her lip until it bled; the way Hilda’s toes curled.

Whether it was old or new, Hilda wanted it all.

Marianne kept coaxing more of Hilda’s juices out, kept drawing moans out of her. Hilda was still trying to catch her breath when she suddenly felt empty, like she was clenching around nothing. Her eyes cracked open, looking up at Marianne’s unsettled face. Marianne was breathing just as hard as Hilda did. For a moment, Hilda wondered if Marianne was wrong about not being able to feel arousal, but then Marianne clarified. “S-sorry. I couldn’t hold onto it.”

“What happened to half an hour...?”  _ Was _ that half an hour?

“I-I think I went overboard. Sorry. I think I’ll be fine, I just need fifteen minutes, maybe—”

“Honestly, don’t even worry about it. I’m pooped, too. Just come down here,” Hilda said. She lifted her arms, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Marianne floated down to settle in her arms. “That was mind-blowing, you know.”

“I wasn’t sure if I remembered how to do it, or what you liked. But something about you...I just remembered it, like that,” Marianne said. She nuzzled her cheek against Hilda’s, and Hilda giggled at the ticklish feeling. “Hilda?”

“Hmm?”

“I know I...talk a lot about the past,” Marianne said. Hilda turned to study Marianne’s face, but half of Marianne’s face was going through the pillow. Hilda tried not to laugh; Marianne’s tone was serious. “About how you were, how  _ we _ were...but I like how we are now. I like this. I love it. And I...wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Hilda ran her hand over Marianne’s shoulder, and Marianne lifted her head. “Ha. You were hiding on purpose?”

“I wasn’t  _ hiding, _ really...”

“You’re right, Marianne. This is perfect,” Hilda said. Marianne’s hand was floating idly, and Hilda put hers up to it. Marianne curled her fingers, and Hilda curled hers; an almost perfect hand-hold, save for the fact that Hilda went through her. “You’re staying, right? At least until I fall asleep.”

“I’ll stay the whole night.”

“Uh...and do what? You don’t sleep, right?”

“No...usually, I just float around people’s houses and look at their pets when you’re asleep. But, I want to stay here tonight.”

Hilda yawned, reaching to turn the light off. “I’m glad you find me more interesting than the German Shepherd across the street.”

“More interesting, and nicer, and just as pretty.”  _ “Just” as pretty? Ouch.  _ “Oh. S-since we finished so soon, maybe you should tell Claude that he can come back?”

Hilda looked at the clock. It  _ was _ pretty early...then again, she really didn’t want to be woken up in the middle of the night by a tipsy Claude asking her how she managed to fuck a ghost. “Never mind it, Marianne. Just...cuddle close and warm me up.”

Marianne snuggled up to Hilda’s side, crossing over at so many parts that Hilda didn’t know where it ended and began. Hilda looked into Marianne’s eyes, sleepily, lovingly, until she couldn’t hold them open anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> normal porn comes next chapter. gonna try and do it b4 christmas :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MariHilda Week Day 7: Free Day~

Hilda normally liked to sleep in, but on the nights when she had some “company” (or spent a nice intimate night with herself), she tended to wake up even later. Depending on who she was with, sometimes she’d find it hard to get out of bed, thinking of her lover. Marianne fit the criteria, and Hilda found herself lying in her bed at two o’clock in the afternoon, thinking about Marianne’s ghostly face, the surprising amount of emotion in her expressions. Usually, Hilda fixated on sensations, on physical feelings, but with Marianne, it was more than that. Hilda could see clear images in her head of what Marianne looked like when she was feeling good.

_ I wonder if they’re memories, _ Hilda thought.  _ Or maybe I’m just so horny that my imagination went into full-drive. _

It was just satisfying to lay in bed and think about Marianne, half-awake and half-asleep. She might not have gotten up at all, if she didn’t hear the toilet flush. She rubbed her eyes, checked her phone. Instinctively, she looked around the room to see if Marianne was there, but she had already floated off. Hilda liked to think she stayed most of the night, though...

The toilet flushed again.

“Christ, Claude,” Hilda mumbled. Curious, she pulled up her and Claude’s text messages. As she did, she heard another flush.

_ H: what are you even doing in the bathroom rn? _

_ C: what _

_ H: stop flushing the toilet. _

_ C: ok one im not even home two if i was who are you to stop telling me to flush the toilet. i live there too. _

_ H: stop joking. you’re not here??? _

_ C: i slept over at lorenz’s _

_ H: THEN WHO’S FLUSHING THE TOILET _

_ C: hilda calm down i doubt anybody who seriously broke in would just be flushing the toilet _

_ H: claude please come home im seriously scared _

_ H: claude??? hello _

_ C: where’s marianne? _

_ H: WHY WOULD SHE BE FLUSHING A TOILET SHE CAN’T USE IT _

_ C: fair...okay stay in your room and lock the door. call 911 and i’ll be there in like 10 minutes. _

_ C: i still dont think any criminal would be just flushing the toilet though _

The toilet flushed again, and Hilda heard a voice through the wall. It was hardly recognizable, but the voice was a bit high-pitched.

_ H: it’s a girl _

_ H: i heard her _

_ C: are you sure its not marianne? i mean, she CAN touch things...since she broke our plate.... _

_ H: why would she be flushing the toilet repeatedly _

_ C: why would a criminal be flushing the toilet. _

_ H: god. fuck im going to go look _

_ C: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU _

_ C: if you think it’s a burglar then stay in the room _

_ H: im bringing my pepper spray _

Hilda put her phone down, digging through her purse for the little pink can of pepper spray that she kept there. Her hands were shaking. She wasn’t even sure she’d be able to fire it correctly.  _ Even if it’s Marianne, _ Hilda thought,  _ pepper spray would just go right through her. _

But, why  _ would _ it be Marianne? Maybe she was just curious, wanted to see what it was like. Hilda tried to convince herself of that, but it didn’t calm her nerves one bit. Pepper spray in hand, she opened her bedroom door, slowly. The bathroom was only a few steps away from her room, and she took them slowly, willing herself not to tremble.

She stopped outside of the bathroom door, which was opened just a crack. The toilet roared again, and Hilda jumped at the sudden sound.

“Oh, no...”

Hilda tensed as her mind struggled to recognize the voice, but it didn’t take long. That  _ was _ Marianne. Hilda sighed, her heart racing. “Marianne?!”

“Huh?! Who—is that you, Hilda? Oh—” Something fell over onto the tile floor with a clatter.

Hesitantly, Marianne opened the door. Hilda looked down at the doorknob, the pale hand that was holding it. She stared, and stared, and stared, until her eyes drifted to Marianne’s face.

“M-Marianne?” Hilda whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Marianne began. “I woke up and I had to pee, and I-I tried to dry my hands with the little thin towels, but I flushed it, and they w-wont go down. And I knocked over your lotion.”

“Marianne. You’re solid,” Hilda said, in awe. Her hand reached up and touched Marianne’s cheek. She was  _ warm. _ “You’re...”

Hilda watched Marianne blush. She was  _ blushing, _ there was  _ color _ in her face. Hilda might have been dreaming, but if she was, she wanted to get as much as she could out of it. Marianne stood there placidly as Hilda stroked her hair, her cheeks, her arms, her fingers. Marianne was wearing one of Hilda’s t-shirts—it was a bit too short for her, riding up her stomach and leaving her lower half exposed. When she saw Hilda looking, she anxiously tugged it down.

“I woke up n-naked,” Marianne said. “And I noticed I wasn’t...going through the bed anymore...”

“You’re solid...”

“You don’t have to keep saying it,” Marianne said, laughing a little. Her voice even sounded clearer. She was still quiet, a little unsure of herself, but it was like music to Hilda. A lovely ballad that was on the precipice of something, building up to a perfect climax. “Hilda...”

Hilda left her hand on Marianne’s. She didn’t want to let go. “What?”

“I think I broke the toilet...”

“Don’t worry. I’ll fix it. Just, um...stand to the side for a second.” Marianne shuffled to the side, and Hilda grabbed the plunger. It probably wasn’t good for the pipes for paper towels to be flushed, but Hilda didn’t exactly feel like reaching into cold toilet water and picking them out. “The thin little towels—they’re called ‘paper towels’, alright? And you can’t flush them. You just put them in the trash can.”

“But, the toilet paper—”

“Flush that.”

“Okay. Sorry. I-I didn’t know any of this.”

“That’s fine. I never thought to teach you this stuff,” Hilda said, a bit awkwardly. “I never really imagined you’d...be here. Solid. Oh, man, you need clothes. You have no clothes.” Hilda had maneuvered the paper towels enough for them to finally go down. It didn’t help that Marianne had used about a million of them, but whatever. “Okay. We need to go shopping. The Deer are supposed to come at four and you have, like, nothing to wear. I know a few places nearby. They might not be quite your style, but—”

Hilda heard the front door fly open. Only Claude opened the door like that, so roughly that it hit the wall and nearly shook the entire apartment. “Hilda?! Are you alright? Where are the police?”

“Oh! Everything’s fine, I’m in the bathroom,” Hilda called.

Marianne gasped, grabbing her shoulder. Hilda would probably never get used to how nice it felt to have Marianne touch her. “Don’t call him back here! I’m hardly wearing anything, Hilda!”

Claude’s frantic stomping down the hallway stopped. “Is that Marianne I hear? Jeez, Hilda, I told you...” 

Hilda closed the door, but Marianne still hid behind her...as if she wasn’t taller. It was hard for Hilda to get a good sense of their height difference when Marianne was always floating, but Marianne definitely had a few inches on her. “Yeah, um, about that. I have some great news, but first, I need you to do me a favor and go into my room, and get a pair of underwear and some pants. And a sweater. Can you do that for me? Please?”

Claude’s steps came a little closer, and he hummed in suspicion. “Are you sure you aren’t being held hostage? Open the door.”

“Claude, can you just—look, Marianne’s in here, and she’s a human now, and she’s only wearing a t-shirt. Can you please just get her some clothes?”

“What? Are you serious?” Claude turned the knob and pushed the door open, his jaw dropping. At least Hilda was blocking his view of the more...intimate parts of Marianne’s body. “Holy—wow! Why? I mean, this is great, but why? Is it because you guys—”

“I don’t know why! Please, go get her some clothes!”

Claude opened the door wider, reaching over Hilda’s head to tousle Marianne’s hair and poke her face. Inexplicably, Hilda felt the urge to punch him for doing that. “Yeah, she’s...that’s a human.”

“H-hi, Claude.”

“Hello, Marianne.” Claude seemed genuinely happy, smiling down at the both of them. “Isn’t this a great turn of events? And just in time for you to meet our friends tonight!”

Hilda reached back, wrapping her arms around Marianne’s waist. “Okay, Claude...the clothes, please.”

“Right, right. You don’t need to say it again...hey, you guys should get Marianne some new clothes at the boutique I work at. I get a pretty nice discount.”

“Claude, will you—” Hilda froze. Wait, that was kind of a good idea. It was a little high-scale, but Marianne would find something. “Okay. Fine. But in order to do that, she needs something to wear out of the house!”

Claude rolled his eyes, finally leaving the bathroom to find Marianne an outfit. Hilda felt strangely protective, with Marianne being tangible. When she was like that, it felt easier for people to steal her away.

“Hilda?”

Hilda turned around. Marianne still had her hands on the shirt, tugging it down. She was definitely going to stretch the fabric, but Hilda was too high up to care. A stupid shirt was nothing compared to the feeling of Marianne being next to her. “Yes? What’s up, Mari?”

“There’s a lot of things we have to do,” Marianne said, smiling. “We can cuddle for real now, and hold hands, a-and take pictures together. And feed each other dessert. Things like that.”

_ This is so unfair! She’s too cute! _ “We’ll do all of that and more! I’m going to dress you up in all kinds of cute clothes, too. Claude works at a real fancy place, you’ll love it—”

Marianne stepped forward, taking Hilda into her arms and squeezing her tight. In another unexpected move, she leaned down to kiss Hilda on the lips. A real kiss, unlike the joking little nuzzles they gave each other before. A serious kiss. Hilda remembered it, she remembered the feeling of being held in Marianne’s arms and tilting her head to reach every bit of her. Like she’d done it before.

Marianne pulled back with a content sigh. “We can do that, too, now.”

“...Yeah. Lots of that.”

* * *

Hilda saw it in Marianne’s eyes as they walked through the mall, all of the things she wanted to do. And as much as Hilda wanted to let her try every sample and throw coins in the fountain and go to the movie theater, the Deer were coming over in just a few hours.

“We’ll come back,” Hilda said.

“Yeah. Maybe you can get a job here and start contributing to the rent,” Claude added, only partially serious.

Marianne wanted to buy everything in the boutique, excited by all of the pretty designs—which prompted Claude to explain what a college budget was like, which led to talk about the economy and politics, and anything else Marianne could think of to ask. Marianne tried to hide her elation, but it was hard to ignore—even the automatic sinks in the bathroom made her smile (although the hand dryer scared her).

“I’m so glad we can see all of these things together,” she said.

“I am, too,” Hilda replied, even though she’d seen all of it before.

Despite the many distractions, they made it back to the apartment in time to meet the Deer. They’d gotten three pizzas and a couple of two-liters of soda on the way back. Marianne loved the smell of pizza; Hilda saw the way she kept looking at it during the ride back. She hadn’t eaten a real meal in a while, of course.

By the time they got to the apartment and laid everything out, Marianne seemed to be a little less appetized. Instead of floating around nervously like she usually did, she simply sat on the sofa, playing with her hair. Hilda kept pushing her hand away; she’d pulled Marianne’s hair back into a gorgeous bun, but Marianne kept picking at it. She was a generally jumpy person, but when the Deer started sending texts saying that they were on their way, she seemed to be inconsolably skittish.

“It’ll be a piece of cake,” Hilda said. “We already told them we had someone for them to meet. All you have to do is tell them who you are.”

“What if they don’t get it?” Marianne said. “What if they don’t remember?”

“I think they do.” Claude had already snatched up a slice of pizza and was down to the crust. Hilda reached over the back of the couch to brush crumbs out of his beard, and he ducked away. “They’ve all been feeling a little strange. Sure, Hilda was the first, but even I was feeling off for a while. Besides, even if they don’t remember you, they’re all...well, most of them are friendly. I’m sure you’ll all hit it off anyway.”

Marianne bit at her knuckle. “Maybe we should leave out the ‘ghost’ part. And just see if they remember.”

“Do it however you want, Mari. Me and Claude are here for backup,” Hilda said.

On cue, there was a knock at the door. Claude checked the time on his phone, then rolled his shoulders. “Must be Ignatz and Raphael.” He walked over to the door, and Hilda prepared to follow him, but Marianne’s hand quickly shot out.

“Stay right here. Please.”

The alarm came through clear in Marianne’s voice, so Hilda settled into her seat next to Marianne as Claude opened the door. 

“Hiya, Claude!” Marianne turned at the sound of Raphael, sitting up a little. She was gripping Hilda with one hand, biting the fingernails of the other. “What’s all this about, man? Who are we meeting?”

“Don’t worry about it yet. Come in and get some pizza!”

Raphael was eager to step in at the sound of that, with Ignatz looking comically small behind him. Ignatz made eye contact with Marianne first, and Hilda watched his eyes go wide. “Hey! You’re the—”

No sooner than the door had closed, the door was being rapped on again. Hilda squeezed Marianne a little tighter. Why was  _ she _ getting nervous? No, of course she was. She wanted Marianne to be accepted. Ignatz sat next to Hilda, leaning forward to look around her and stare at Marianne. Leonie and Lysithea came in, with Lorenz arriving seconds after them. Everyone kept looking over at Marianne, like they recognized her, but were all afraid to say how.

Marianne didn’t like being looked at for so long, but Hilda saw it as a good sign. They remembered her. Everyone talked to each other, but didn’t say a word to Marianne, as if they were afraid she’d disappear if they spoke to her. Hilda was quieter than usual, sticking close to Marianne’s side.

Everyone got pizza and drinks, sprawled out in armchairs and the sofa, and in Raphael’s case, the floor. As they ate, a sort of quiet settled over the room. Hilda couldn’t help but notice that Marianne was eating her pizza from the side instead of from the bottom, but it had gotten so calm that she didn’t want to say anything.

_ She has to at some point, though. _ Marianne didn’t seem to plan on speaking. She ate her pizza, drank her soda, and looked out at the Golden Deer with an emotion in her eyes that Hilda couldn’t discern.

Eventually, Hilda had had enough. Marianne was the kind of person who needed a push. “So, let’s discuss the elephant in the room. Or, in nicer terms, Marianne.” Only Claude laughed. Everyone else looked too stiff to even speak, including Marianne. “Well, Marianne? You should introduce yourself!”

“Hold on just a moment.” Marianne seemed almost relieved that Lysithea had spoken up, but the relief melted away when she saw how angry Lysithea was. “You—you’re the ghost that’s been haunting my apartment!”

“H-haunting? No, I wasn’t haunting you,” Marianne quickly said. “I just missed—”

“So, I’m  _ not _ going insane! In that case, she haunted  _ me _ first,” Lorenz argued. “Why, I was taking my morning tea, and she sat across from me at the table!”

“I wasn’t haunting anybody! You always used to ask me out for tea, so I—”

“Hey, Leonie—didn’t we see her when we were working out?”

“I think we did. You said we were making it up!”

Raphael groaned. “I really thought we were!”

“No, she’s real,” Ignatz insisted. “I saw her in my dreams, and kept drawing her. I showed them to Hilda.”

Lysithea scoffed. “So, Hilda knew about this the whole time?! Thanks for letting me get haunted!”

“I concur!”

_ Alright, this is getting way out of hand, _ Hilda thought. She was used to seeing her friends be rowdy, but Marianne would get anxious if they kept at it. “Okay,” Hilda said. “First of all, everyone  _ calm _ down. Okay? Maybe if you just  _ shut up, _ Marianne will explain herself.”

Marianne jumped at the mention of her name. Hilda felt bad for throwing her under the bus, but she said she’d do it by herself, and Hilda wanted to give her the chance. Marianne was gripping her cup of Sprite, looking down at its bubbles. After a few deep (and audible) breaths, she looked around at the room. Lysithea and Lorenz looked angry, Ignatz looked fascinated, while Leonie and Raphael just looked confused. Claude was just smiling happily in the armchair, as if the meeting wasn’t going horribly.

_ These aren’t good odds. _

“Um...I want to apologize. If I scared anyone,” Marianne began. “I didn’t mean to do it. Especially you, Lysithea. I know you don’t like ghosts. Sorry...I didn’t think it through.” Lysithea seemed to soften a little at that. Hilda patted Marianne’s shoulder. “But, I guess I should properly introduce myself. I’m Marianne von Edmund. And...I was a ghost until, um, this morning. It’s a long story that I won’t bore you with yet. But I met Hilda again a few weeks ago, and then Claude right after that, and they convinced me to tell you all about myself. I know this is really weird, but I hope you accept me anyway. And I hope we can be friends, and you can come to love me as much as I love you all.”

Hilda almost felt the urge to start clapping. Marianne started smiling near the end, even though her fingers were still nervously dancing around the rim of her cup. Hilda looked over at Claude, who was stroking his beard and nodding, satisfied.

Lorenz cleared his throat. “Thank you for taking tea with me. Since for reasons I cannot fathom, nobody else will.”

“Uh, you’re welcome?”

“Yeah. Thanks for doing it so nobody else has to,” Leonie joked.

A little giggle went around the room.  _ Good, good, _ Hilda thought.  _ This is great! _ “Thanks for apologizing. And...sorry for yelling at you, I guess,” Lysithea said. 

“No, it’s fine. I guess it was pretty scary for me to show up. I didn’t know you saw me,” Marianne said.

Raphael gave a barking laugh. “Oh, no, we saw you! I was about to go check myself into the psych ward! I’m glad you’re real.”

“So, Marianne,” Claude said, a bit too loudly. “Isn’t there something else you want to tell us? About Hilda?”

“Huh? Oh, um...yeah...me and Hilda are dating...”

“What?!” Just like that, Lysithea was angry again. Or, very confused, at least. “For how long?!”

“Just a week, I guess,” Hilda said. She wouldn’t let Marianne tackle that part on her own.

Ignatz adjusted his glasses. “I thought she just turned into a human this morning?”

“Yeah, but...”  _ This sounds a lot weirder to say out loud. _ “It’s not...bad to date a ghost, y’know?”

“Tell Lorenz why I had to stay over his house last night,” Claude added.

“Let’s  _ not, _ Claude. Seriously, shut up. Now,” Hilda said. “Can we talk about something else? Hey, Marianne—tell us some of the cool stuff you saw when you were spying on people.”

“I wasn’t spying...!”

With the conversation safely driven away from Hilda and Marianne’s...private moments, Hilda was content to sit back and watch Marianne interact with the rest of the Golden Deer. She was still a little quiet, only chiming in when she really had something to say, but Hilda could tell she was happy. And although Hilda had expected to be a little jealous of everyone else for getting to see Marianne, talk to her, there wasn’t a hint of it to be found.

The night went smoothly. The pizza boxes got empty, they talked for hours, and then they decided to watch a movie. Marianne was still surprised just watching people move across the screen. Hilda couldn’t help noticing that the rest of the Deer kept looking back at Marianne, and at first, she felt herself being a little protective. Then, she began to wonder if they were starting to feel a little protective of Marianne, too. Especially Claude, who was the first one to shoot Lorenz down if he was being a little  _ too _ friendly in his dialogue with Marianne.

Despite the excitement, everybody started to filter out after the movie. To Hilda’s surprise, Claude threw his jacket on, too. 

“I’m gonna go bum around Raphael and Ignatz’s place,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Give you and the missus some space, since you guys have a little more to work with now. I can take a hint. But, seriously, I’m not staying out all night this time, so you guys better be decent by two.”

Marianne was embarrassed, still, but Hilda was grateful. She had a lot more to focus on throughout the day, but when she had squared Marianne away with the Deer, she wanted nothing more than to get all over Marianne and see exactly how familiar it all was to her. Marianne was sitting too close during the movie, snuggling up against her like nobody was watching.

When the door closed behind Claude, Hilda and Marianne were alone.

“We should clean up,” Marianne pointed out.

“Ugh. Right. Of course, Claude left us with the mess. That’s probably why he actually left...”

Marianne and Hilda picked up cups and paper plates, folding the pizza boxes so they’d fit in the trash can. Marianne noticed a few dishes in the sink, but Hilda decided to ignore them. Claude had been keeping his word about doing them, even though Hilda had turned out to not be insane. They talked a bit as they tidied up, and Marianne seemed to be absolutely glowing the entire time, talking about how happy she was to see the Deer again and recounting a few memories.

Once they were finished, they had nothing to do but stand in the living room and look at each other, settle in to their new reality. Marianne wouldn’t speak first, Hilda knew it, so Hilda went ahead and took the first hit. “Mari? I, um...I want to return the favor. For what you did for me last night. I want you to feel good, too. You’ve been doing so well, and even just in these past weeks, I’ve seen you grow. I want to...yeah.”

“Y-you don’t have to...”

“No,” Hilda said. Marianne paused, her hands clasped tight at her waist. “I  _ want _ to.”

“Hilda...” Marianne came closer, resting her hands on Hilda’s waist. “I want to do...the thing we talked about before. The thing we did, that you liked to do. The one with the weird name.”

“What? Oh, you mean scissoring?”

Marianne shifted her stance, averting her eyes. “...Can we call it something else?”

“We can call it anything you want. Is that what you want to do?”

“Yes,” Marianne said. “Please?”

_ C’mon, don’t beg. I’ll lose my entire mind if you start begging. _ “Okay. We can...we can do that. And a lot more. Nowadays, there’s...” Marianne waited patiently for Hilda to finish, but Hilda felt it was a little early to explain to Marianne what a vibrator was. “Never mind. We’ll just do that for now. And more stuff later, if you want.”

Marianne looked like she had more to say, but she just took Hilda’s hand in hers, nodding. “Okay. Let’s do it. I want to do...everything.”

_ Claude, two o’clock might be too early for you to come back. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time on dragonball z: ghost sex, but like, not.
> 
> if you didn't come here for the porn...thank you for reading! 
> 
> no, seriously, next chapter will be JUST porn. like thassit.


End file.
